


I'm Not Crazy (I'm Just a Little Unwell)

by Krank



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Depression, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, M/M, One Shot, Overdosing, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krank/pseuds/Krank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Being a teenager is hard enough without having an earth shattering secret that builds and builds and builds until it pushes you too far.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Crazy (I'm Just a Little Unwell)

**Author's Note:**

> I myself have suffered at the hands of depression. I don't want to upset anyone, or lessen the importance of suicide prevention by writing a fanfic about it. I wrote this to get myself through a low point, which I still have even after all this time. This is one of the most serious stories I've ever written.
> 
> [ ](http://s116.photobucket.com/user/_-disenchanted-_/media/IMG_0577.jpg.html)

_“Harry? Harry! Oh my God, what have you done?”_

_“Gem?”_

_“Harry look at me! Look at me!”_

_“I’m tired, Gem…”_

_“Don’t you dare close your eyes.”_

_“’M sorry. So sorry.”_

_“You can be sorry later. I’m going to get help – Harry?”_

Harry Styles blinked at the sunlight streaming through the window across the room. He frowned, rolling over on to his back and stretching his tight muscles. He had thought he’d closed his blinds before falling asleep, though it was clear someone thought it better for them to be open.

No doubt it was his mother.

The bed he was in was stiff and uncomfortable, with over-starched sheets and a thin, scratchy blanket on top. The room was sterile, with nothing in it other than his bed, a chair and some empty cupboards.

Harry snatched his phone from the bedside table, checking for any new messages. He desperately hoped for one in particular, but unsurprisingly, there were none.

Harry began to scratch one of his bandaged wrists furiously.

“Oh, Harry, stop playing with it! You’ll make it worse!” His mother appeared in the doorway, her voice pained. Upon closer inspection, she looked worse for wear. She had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was almost completely out of the bun it had been thrown in to.

“I’m not playing with it!” Harry croaked, suddenly noticing how bone dry his throat was. “It’s really itchy.”

She crossed the room and grabbed the pitcher of water on the over-bed table and poured him a drink. She approached his bed, resting her hand on his ankle as Harry drank it all in one go. “That’s your body attempting to heal what you’ve done. So as a punishment you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Harry winced at his mother’s sharp tone. They typically had a good relationship as a mother and son. Harry treasured her. He used to tell her everything up until a few months previous when his mind had started to turn against him. Up until that point, he’d been momma’s little boy – so much so that once things had taken a turn, he hadn’t wanted to ruin the image that she had of him: the image of a well-raised, charming young man.

“I just –“ Anne began, her voice strained. “I just don’t understand _why_ – “

“Please.” Harry interrupted, though he didn’t look at her. He hadn’t been able to look her in the eye for a while. He hadn’t been able to look anyone in the eye for that matter, though no one had seemed to notice because he had hid it so well. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to forget.”

“But you need to talk about it!” His mother sounded close to tears. “Just tell me everything and then we can get past this. We can only forget this if you just confide in _someone_. Just tell us why you decided to-“

“Mum?” A soft voice called out. The two occupants of the room turned to see Gemma Styles hovering in the doorway. Like her mother, she appeared tired and worn out. “How about you and I go get some coffee, yeah?”

“Not now, Gemma-“

“Harry’s breakfast will be here shortly, anyways. We should let him eat in peace, don’t you think?”

Anne took one more look at Harry and turned on her heal, heading towards her daughter. Gemma shot Harry a sad smile over their mother’s shoulder as she guided her from the room.

Harry tried not to think about how his sister had yet to come to his bedside since he’d been admitted the night before.

Breakfast was a disappointing affair, with a glamorous menu of toast, cereal, and a small cup of orange juice. Even if it had been more appetizing, Harry wouldn’t have eaten it. There was something about getting your stomach pumped up through your throat that really tarnished any ounce of appetite one might have. He’d continue to stave off eating until he was held down and force-fed.

A nurse arrived shortly after his untouched plate was removed from the room. In her hand was a little white cup.

“What are these?” Harry asked as he peered in to see two simple white pills. He was handed a second cup filled with water. The nurse gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry, dear. I’m a nurse; it’s just my job to administer these. I can’t supply you with information, I’m afraid.”

Harry tossed back the two white pills, hid them under his tongue and took a small sip of water to appease her. As soon as she’d left, he spat them out in to his hand and tucked them under his pillow. Harry wasn’t on any medication. Not yet.

He felt unsettled, restless. He felt as if he didn’t belong in the hospital. He was suffocating on the stale antiseptic air and he needed out. The four white walls he was surrounded by were closing in and choking him. He felt the same way he did in his home and at his school: completely trapped with nowhere to go.

Barely making a sound, Harry slipped out of his hospital bed, his socked feet hitting the cold tile floor. He grabbed the robe slung over the only chair in the room and slid it on over his white t-shirt and blue plaid sleep pants his mother had brought for him, wrapping it snuggly around himself. The long sleeves helped to hide the stark white bandages on Harry’s wrists, making him feel a little less like a circus act and more like the seventeen-year-old boy that he wanted to be again. Finally, he shoved his big feet in to his Converse.

With his head held high Harry exited in to the hallway, trying not to attract attention to himself. His heart was racing in his chest as he headed towards the set of double doors that sectioned the psych ward off from the rest of the hospital, feeling as if he were doing something completely illegal. The rooms he passed were mostly quiet. That was the thing he’d discovered and rather liked about that wing of the hospital: it was a great place for some peace and quiet.

A couple more steps and Harry was free. He found his way to the elevators, desperate to get down to the main lobby and hopefully out in to the sun. Air. He needed air.

Though, as Harry left the uncomfortable confines of the elevator and saw the bright world outside of the doors ahead, something distracted him. He could hear the cheerful plucking of guitar strings, accompanied by children’s laughter and singing. He turned around in a circle, searching for the source of the music, when his eyes landed on the entrance to the Pediatrics wing.

The walls inside of the doors were painted in bright, happy colors. There were murals of recognizable cartoon characters, and bulletin boards full of letters and artwork. It was an overwhelmingly happy place, almost as if you were getting slapped in the face by joy. It was a bit distressing for Harry, being surrounded by such vibrant and positive images when in his mind he was all different shades of gray.

He walked slowly, seeing nurses ducking in and out of equally bright rooms. No matter how cheerful the place was it was still a hospital. There were still sick children in those rooms.

The music and laughter became louder as Harry walked further in to Pediatrics. He poked his head around a corner and saw that off the hallway was a large, open room. It had plush couches and chairs in it, as well as an abundance of toys. It was a day room, where families with sick children could come to play and relax.

There were roughly ten kids seated on the primary colored mats, with a couple off to the side in wheelchairs or on their parents’ laps. No one was playing, though. Instead, everyone’s attention was focused on the young man seated in a plastic chair across the room. He had an acoustic guitar in his lap and he was playing what sounded like the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb.

Harry stepped fully in to the room, leaning against the wall as he observed the smiling guitar player. He had light blond hair, with visible brown roots. He wore a purple hooded sweatshirt, which Harry was certain would have looked completely ridiculous on anyone other than him. He had on black trousers that hugged his legs, and bright white trainers that looked as if they had never seen the outdoors. He had this aura around him, light like sunshine and clouds and summer.

His smile was the brightest part of him, even though it was full of stainless steel braces. It just added to his initial charm, along with the little dimple on his chin. He was beautiful.

As Harry quickly realized where his thoughts had strayed, he grabbed one of his wrists and pressed his thumb in to the bandages, putting pressure on his stitches. A sharp pain shot up his arm and he bit his lip to avoid making a sound. He took deep breaths, letting the ache ripple through him and clear his mind, reminding him where he was and what was wrong with him.

He looked on as the children’s high-pitched voices sang along to the easy songs, the blond boy encouraging them as his nimble fingers moved over the frets.

Harry wasn’t sure how long he stayed there watching the happy scene. He briefly thought about finding himself a seat, though he didn’t want to attract any attention to himself. He wasn’t supposed to be there to begin with.

“All right, you crazy kids,” the young man suddenly called as he strummed one final chord to finish off Itsy Bitsy Spider. Harry was snapped out of his trance as he heard the strong Irish accent coming from the blond. It surprised him, and also made his cheeks flush.

There was a resounding wail from the crowd as the blond stood up and tugged on his guitar strap until the instrument was resting on his back. Some of the children stood up and wrapped their arms around his legs as he tried to make his way towards the door. The boy laughed.

“Get back, you savages! I need to get to me car!”

As people began to rise from their seats and children began to run amuck, Harry retreated to the hallway. He folded his arms over his chest and began the journey out of the children’s wing, his small break from reality over.

“Hey!” He came to an abrupt halt as he heard a shout behind him. He turned on his heel and came face to face with the blond musician.

“Oh,” Harry took a half step back. “Hello.” Up close he could see the boy’s eyes. They were bright blue, with a pale ring around his pupils.

“I saw you lurking in the back of the room during my little concert. Haven’t seen you around before. Are you new to the ward? It can suck big time when you’re a teenager but still get stuck in ped’s because you’re under eighteen… Been there, done that. What are you here for?”

The sudden onslaught of questions caught Harry off guard. He began to panic. “I… I’m not in Pediatrics; I was just going for a walk. I heard you playing and thought I’d take a look.”

The boy smiled and nodded. “And what did you think?”

Harry took a deep breath and tried to still his racing heart. “Do you always play for such insane crowds?”

Harry’s sad attempt at humor triggered a bubbly laugh from the boy in front of him. He brushed past Harry and headed for the exit, Harry instinctively following. “I’m Niall, by the way.”

“My name is Harry.”

When they made it out in to the lobby, Harry angled himself towards the elevators.

“Look, I’ve got to head back – “

“No, wait!” The boy started, grabbing Harry by the arm. “Let’s grab a coffee from the cafeteria or something.”

Harry shrunk back, and as he did, Niall’s hand slid down his arm and stopped at his wrist, squeezing it tightly to stop him from pulling away. It put pressure on Harry’s bandage, causing him to wince.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I’ve hurt you.” Niall flipped his wrist over and shoved the sleeve of his robe up enough to reveal the gauze. Harry watched as the boy’s eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s no big deal, just let me go! I’m fine.” Harry tried to pry Niall’s hands off of him, though the blond just caught his other wrist, revealing Harry’s second set of bandages.

Harry felt shame weighing in his chest as the new stranger examined him, thumbs smoothing over the wrappings. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want anyone to know how far he had fallen, or how low he had sunk.

“I’m in the psych ward,” he blurted. His gaze jumped to all of the other people in the lobby, walking by them and staring. He couldn’t breathe.

Niall dropped his wrists and Harry assumed that he was dismissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll just – “

“You never answered me about that coffee yet.”

Even though Harry was wearing his sleep clothes, he followed Niall to the cafeteria line as the blond got himself a hot beverage. He nagged Harry until he gave in and picked water for himself, his stomach still upset.

Niall then led them outside, which pleased Harry to no end. He breathed in the fresh fall air and closed his eyes against the bright sun. He wasn’t sure why he was blindly following a stranger around, putting a small amount of trust in him. Perhaps it was his happy disposition… or perhaps it was his award-winning smile that gave Harry some sort of hope. Regardless, he took a seat beside the lad on a bench facing the street.

Silence hung between the two of them as Niall stood his guitar up in front of him, tucking the neck between his knees so it wouldn’t fall. He sipped his coffee, and Harry saw him smile softly as he swallowed.

“Beautiful day.”

“Mm,” Harry agreed, looking out over the lawn. There were people milling about under the sagging branches of the trees, which were filled with red leaves. The grass under their feet was crunchy and yellowing, dying off before the snow fell. Winter was coming and nature was saying its goodbyes. “So you play here often?” Harry asked, a bit eager to make conversation with the boy next to him.

“I’ve been doing this for about a year now. I spent some time in the hospital when I injured my knee and my dad brought me my guitar. I was only allowed to play it in the day room… and I guess the rest of the kids loved it. It always attracts a crowd. Makes you feel needed, in a way. Like you’re doing something important for someone else.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Harry smiled, though it was rather sad. “That you have something like that to give to people. You have a purpose.”

Niall pursed his lips as he looked back at him, a slight frown on his face. “So why are you in the hospital, Harry?”

Harry’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t want to talk about it. He’d managed to avoid talking to his own mother about what had happened, and he certainly didn’t want to tell a random guy he’d just met.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Harry tried, his voice low.

Niall nodded. “I’ll be honest, I have my theories. But I’d like to hear it from you.”

Harry shook his head. “No, believe me, you don’t.”

“I do. You think that it doesn’t matter, and that it’s your own burden to bear. But you’re wrong.”

Harry held his breath as Niall spoke. He felt exposed, in a way. Like he’d been shoved out under a spotlight. “You… you don’t even know me,” He replied slowly. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know that you hurt yourself recently.”

Harry snapped. “And that makes you think that you can sit here and define who I am? Tell me all about how I’m feeling? Show me your PhD and then I’ll have a chat, but until then, please keep your opinions to yourself.” Harry wasn’t sure where his anger had come from. He felt the need to defend himself.

“Do you want to die, Harry?”

Harry gasped. “What kind of question is that?” He exclaimed, standing up from the bench, gripping his water bottle tightly.

“It’s an honest one.”

Instead of saying another word, Harry began to head back towards the hospital, a lump in his throat. The initial attractive glow that had surrounded Niall when he’d first laid eyes on him had all but evaporated.

“I’m sorry,” Niall called, bringing Harry to a stop. “I just think that if you well and truly wanted to leave this world, that you would have been more successful at it.”

Harry somehow managed to make it back to his room before his mother returned, and before any of the nurses even noticed he was gone _. Top quality hospital care_ , he thought bitterly, though he was glad he hadn’t been missed.

Harry closed his blinds and shut off the light, burrowing down under the scratchy blanket on his bed. He stared at the wall and thought about the encounter that he’d just had, and the odd human being he’d met. He thought about what he’d asked him, and the words he’d said.

Of course Harry wanted to die. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have gone through all of the trouble and gotten himself shut up in a psychiatric ward being poked and prodded by professionals. No, he wanted out. Surely, he did.

His mother wanted to know what had pushed him so far, what had made him snap. And yet, if Harry told her it would break her heart. For her to find out that her perfect son was so imperfect, that he didn’t love whom he was meant to love and that his body was attracted to the wrong gender… Harry could never tell his mother that he was gay.

After Anne got back and after he’d refused his lunch, the doctor looking after him sent in the hospital’s resident psychologist. She was lovely, and soft spoken like shrinks were in the movies, but Harry found it impossible to open up to her. He didn’t tell her anything helpful, and once she had left, his mother returned, still looking tired but with an added look of disappointment in her eyes.

“She was just trying to help you, Harry,” his mother scolded, combing her fingers through his hair as he sat against his pillows. “We need to work through this so that we can fix it – “

“I need to be fixed? So I’m broken, then?” Harry snapped, pulling his head away from his mother’s touch.

He saw Anne deflate, losing her strong motherly composure once more. “Why are you doing this, baby?” She asked, voice cracking. “Why are you fighting us? I just want you to be better. You used to be so happy – “

“Did I?” Harry interrupted. He knew he was just trying to be over dramatic, however when he thought about it, it was a good question.

It was true: Harry was a very happy teenager, with lots of friends and good grades. And for the past three months, he’d been a complete fraud.

_Louis was Harry’s best friend. They had been glued to the hip since they were young. They stayed at each other’s houses, went to movies, and Louis even tried to teach Harry how to properly play football. Harry had gallons of respect for the older boy, and cherished their friendship._

_Shortly after Harry turned seventeen in his sophomore year, the friendship that he loved so much began to change and warp around him. He began to notice less Louis’ jokes and more his blue eyes and his cheeky grin. Every time the boy got close to him, the storm inside of Harry would grow. The room would get hot and it was harder to breathe when Louis was around._

_In Harry’s defense, Louis was ungodly touchy. He would play around with Harry and tease him, putting his arms around him sometimes. It was pure torture, but as time went on Harry began to question if perhaps Louis’ feelings were the same. Perhaps the older boy was attracted to Harry as well._

_It all came to a head one day when they were in Louis’ bedroom. Throwing caution to the wind, Harry had leaned in and tried for a kiss, only to be shoved away violently._

_“What the fuck was that?”_

_“I… I’m sorry – “_

_“What is wrong with you? Are you gay, then? You have some big gay love for me?”_

_Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest as his best friend looked at him like a stranger. He stood up and backed away towards the door, feeling suddenly like an intruder in the familiar house. “Lou, please. You can’t… You can’t say anything. Please don’t tell anyone.”_

_He saw his friend sigh, rubbing his face. “Of course, just… I think you need to leave.”_

_Things had been different after that day. Harry still hung around with his same group of friends, which was difficult because every day he had to see Louis, and every day his best friend would stand farther and farther away from him. It tore him to shreds to know that he’d lost his best friend all because he’d fallen in love with him.  
_

_In the mornings Harry would wake up with the fear in his belly that that was the day Louis would go back on his word and the entire school would find out about his sexuality. Why would he keep Harry’s secret when he had betrayed him?  
_

_Day after day Harry lived in constant fear and constant hatred of who he was._

Harry blinked back frustrated tears, pulling his blankets up over his head to block out the world.

Despite his reluctance to cooperate, Harry was started on an anti-depressant and a sleeping pill, which were to be heavily monitored by his mother once he was discharged. He was also held for one more day and night of observation to make sure the pills did their job and didn’t have any unseen side effects.

All Harry felt was indifference.

On his final day while he was getting his bandages changed by one of the nurses, the last person he thought he’d ever see again appeared in the doorway of his room.

“Knock, knock – oh! I’m so sorry.”

Harry turned to see none other than Niall hovering behind him, eyes zeroed in on the ugly stitches on his wrists. He felt a bit upset to see the invasive boy again, however there was also a flutter in his chest at the sight of him. Harry frowned slightly at his body’s reaction. He needed to stop feeling that way.

“Could you wait outside, sir?” The nurse asked politely, dabbing at some of the discharge around Harry’s wound.

“Of course – “

“It’s alright,” Harry called, halting Niall before he had a chance to make it back out in to the hallway. “It’s nothing he doesn’t already know about.”

Niall winced a little at Harry’s sharp tone and waited while his wrists were wrapped back up. Harry could tell he was trying not to stare, but was failing miserably. Harry also noticed that he once again had his guitar with him.

When they were finally alone, Niall pulled a chair up to the bed and took a seat.

“Have you come to interrogate me again?” Harry asked, swinging his legs back up on to the bed and settling back against his pillows.

“No, I haven’t. Well, not if you don’t want to. I actually came to apologize about yesterday. It’s all I could think about last night in bed. I can be pretty blunt sometimes. I say things before I really think them through, and they sort of just spill out in to the world before I can sensor myself. It’s true I don’t know you, and I don’t know what you’ve been through, but once I found out that you had hurt yourself… I just needed to know why.”

Harry listened as Niall tried to explain himself. “It wasn’t really any of your business,” He replied.

“I know… But it surprised me that a boy like you would ever get so low that he tried to end his own life.”

“I boy like _me?_ ” Harry frowned.

“Yeah, you know, someone who’s got everything going for them. Good looking, popular, smart…” Niall used his fingers to make his list.

“There you go making assumptions again,” Harry rolled his eyes, though his face had become warm. After all, Niall had said he was _good looking_.

“Tell me I’m wrong about you.” When Harry didn’t reply, Niall grinned triumphantly. “See? I’m not so bad at reading people.

Harry’s own resolve crumbled and he smiled. There was something infectious about his new companion. “So is that the only reason you’ve come today? To mend our previously non-existent friendship?”

Niall shrugged. “Not completely. I also wondered if you might accompany me downstairs.”

“Why’s that?” Harry asked.

Niall tapped his guitar. “I’ve got a private show to do.”

Harry once again donned his robe and followed Niall down to the Pediatrics ward and once again he was assaulted by the bright colors.

They twisted and turned down hallways, until they stopped at one door in particular. The curtains on the windows were shut, keeping the room quite dark. When Niall knocked on the open door, Harry heard the scrape of a chair against linoleum and then they were greeted by whom Harry assumed was a mother and father. Just like all the other adults in the hospital, they looked tired and stretched impossibly thin.

“How are you?” Niall asked, lifting his guitar off of his back and holding it at his side. Harry stood rather uncomfortably beside him.

“We’re doing alright. It’s a good day for her. She’ll be so glad to see you,” the woman replied, reaching out and resting a hand on Niall’s shoulder. “She loves it when you come by. She can’t get out to see you in the day room, and we’re so grateful you make the effort. It’s selfless of you.”

“I’ll sing to anyone who will listen.” Niall gave them both a grin full of metal, then gestured to Harry, who attempted some eye contact with the two parents. “This is Harry. He’s a friend. You don’t mind if he tags along?”

Niall encouraged the man and woman to go grab some lunch while he and Harry entertained their daughter. As Harry entered the darkened room, he finally caught sight of the small girl lying in the hospital bed. She looked small and rather frail. There were machines beeping away beside her, and as she turned her head towards them, Harry saw the pink hat pulled down over her completely hairless head.

Harry began to panic. “Niall, I can’t – “

“Julie!” Niall called, ignoring Harry’s protests and heading to the girl’s bedside.

“Niall!” She cheered back, stretching her arms out and inviting him in for a hug.

“I heard you’re having a good day,” he said, selecting a chair and taking a seat.

“I feel okay,” she replied, wiggling up the mattress in to a sitting position. “Who’s that?”

Niall craned his neck and spotted Harry still standing a few feet away. “Him? He’s Harry. He’s come to help me out today.” Niall gestured wildly for Harry to join him in the seat next to him. Harry took a deep breath and complied.

The little girl leaned forward towards Niall’s ear, and Niall met her halfway so that she could whisper something to him. He looked over at Harry as she told him her secret.

“Yeah, I think he is, too. Bit sad at the moment, though.”

“Why are you sad?” The girl blurted. “Are you in the hospital like me?”

Harry bit his lip, looking to Niall for help. The blond stared back at him expectantly, leaving Harry hanging. “I… “ He began. “I had an accident. I hurt myself.”

Niall’s expression softened.

“That’s a bit silly of you,” Julie replied bluntly.

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“So!” Niall steered the conversation back to himself. “What songs shall we sing today, my lady?”

Julie took a moment to think about it, tapping a finger on her chin. “I want you to sing me Justin Bieber!”

“ _Justin Bieber_?” Niall mock gasped. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Aw! Come on! You sound just like him!” Julie cried, clutching her princess blanket tightly.

Niall turned to Harry. “You hear that, Harry? I sound just like Justin Bieber.”

Niall fell in to an acoustic rendition of ‘As Long As You Love Me’ and Julie watched him, completely entranced like Harry had been when he’d first seen him play the day before. Niall’s voice was strong and smooth, and forced Harry’s heart in to his throat. There was something about the boy that made Harry feel safe, despite everything that was going on his life. He’d only known him for barely a day and yet Niall had already been brutally honest with him, forcing him to confront his own issues. Niall felt like a constant, like a beacon of sorts, guiding Harry’s ship to harbor. Given enough time, Harry knew he could grow to trust Niall completely.

After the first song, Niall sang ‘Baby’, which was Julie’s request. He then played some Ed Sheeran and by that point her eyelids were drooping.

“She sleeps a lot. Even the littlest things wear her out.” Niall whispered as he leaned on his guitar after she had fallen asleep.

“She has cancer, doesn’t she?” Harry asked just as softly.

Niall nodded and Harry’s heart broke.

When Julie’s parents returned, Niall and Harry took their leave. As soon as they were far enough away from the room, Harry crumpled, clutching the railing along the wall as he fell to his knees.

“Why did you bring me here?” He asked, folding himself up as tightly as he could.

Niall sighed, sinking down to Harry’s level. “First and foremost was to get you out of that ward, but also… Not everyone gets to choose when he or she leaves this world. Sometimes their bodies choose for them when they start to fail. Then, like you, sometimes our minds decide when it’s time, even if our hearts disagree.”

“It was just so hard!” Harry cried, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. “I didn’t want to feel this way anymore. I wanted it to stop.”

“I know. Let’s get you back upstairs.”

Niall helped Harry off of the floor to avoid any unnecessary attention as Harry finally broke down and openly cried for the first time in the near forty-eight hours since he’d gotten to the hospital. They made it back to the psych ward and Harry crawled in to his bed, once again curling up as small as he could under his covers. Niall, in turn, perched on the end of the mattress, giving the brunette his full attention.

“Why are you in the hospital, Harry?” He asked, repeating the same question he’d asked the day before. They both knew the answer, but once again, Niall wanted to hear it.

Harry took a shuddering breath. “Because two days ago I tried to kill myself.”

_Harry knew that that was it. He’d been hurting for too long, suffocating for too long. He couldn’t deal with it anymore, pretending that he wasn’t burning from the inside out. He slapped a smile on his face every day for everyone’s benefit and he was tired. He was tired and he was desperate for relief._

_There were consequences, and he would hurt people, but in that moment, it’s all he had left._

_Harry’s mother and stepfather had stepped out for their weekly date night, completely unaware of Harry’s plans and leaving him to his own devices. He spent time writing out his feelings and confessions, even though he always thought it a bit cliché to leave a note. There were things that he had to say, though, and Harry wouldn’t leave until he knew that the people that he loved would understand his reasoning. It was perfectly good reasoning. Finally, Harry sent Louis a text for the first time in weeks, telling him once again that he was sorry._

_Harry had looked in to how he was going to do it. There were many ways, and most scared him quite a bit. Therefore, he chose a quiet method, that wouldn’t cause too much mess and that hopefully wouldn’t hurt too badly. He found his painkillers in the medicine cabinet from when he’d gotten his wisdom teeth removed, and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf in the kitchen. It tasted vile, but it helped to numb him._

_Finally, Harry grabbed the razor blade that he kept in his bedside drawer. He was no stranger to cuts, and knew that he just had to go deeper for the desired outcome he was looking for. It would hopefully help everything go faster._

_Harry ended up on his bedroom floor, leaned back against his bed. His painkillers were gone, and the whiskey was splashing around in his stomach with them, slowly creating a lethal concoction. Clean lines on each of his wrists were spilling valuable amounts of blood, though unfortunately it was getting on his carpet. Somewhere in his hazy mind he felt bad for making a mess._

_In those moments that he sat in silence, he felt peace. He felt calm, and free. Devoid of the pain and hardships he’d been weighed down with for months. He wouldn’t have to face his demons anymore. He’d won._

_Just as his vision was darkening around the edges and the sweat was soaking his body, he heard the front door slam. His heart began to pound in his ears as he heard the sweet voice of his older sister call up the stairs. She wasn’t supposed to be home. She was supposed to be at uni._

_“Harry?” She called. He could hear her footfalls on the stairs. “Don’t tell me you’re already in bed on the one night I want to hang out with my little brother!”_

_She was outside his door, and Harry bit his lip, stopping himself from calling out to her. Perhaps if she thought he was asleep… Just a few more minutes and it would be over._

_“Harry?” She knocked softly. “I brought movies and everything!”_

_Harry’s neck was unable to keep his head up any longer, so he rested it back against the edge of the mattress. He watched as his doorknob began to turn, the world around him slowing down to a crawl. He had begun to shiver._

_“You better not be naked, I gave you plenty of warning…” The door swung open and there Gemma stood, dressed in track pants and a sweatshirt from her University. Even in lazy clothes, she still looked beautiful. Just like their mother, Harry had thought to himself._

_It took all of one fifth of a second for Gemma to register what was happening in front of her._

_“Harry? Harry! Oh my God, what have you done?”_

_“Gem?” Harry asked softly._

_His sister rushed to his side and fell to her knees, placing a hand on his cheek. “Harry look at me! Look at me!”_

_Harry groaned, unable to focus on her face. “I’m tired, Gem…”_

_“Don’t you dare close your eyes,” Gemma said sternly, She reached in to her pocket and retrieved something. Harry assumed it was her phone._

_“’M sorry. So sorry.” Harry mumbled. He felt warm pressure on his wrists and realized that Gemma had her hands clamped around them, her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder._

_“You can be sorry later. I’m going to get help – Harry?”_

_Harry panicked as he suddenly began to feel cold. All the peace and serenity he had felt dissolved, replaced by a strong survival instinct. This wasn’t it. This wasn’t what he had wanted. He’d made a mistake!_

_“I’m scared, Gem,” Harry sobbed. “I’m so scared.”_

Harry cried harder as he relived what he’d thought were the last moments of his life. “I feel so stupid!” He wailed. “I just wanted to stop feeling.”

He felt the mattress shift as Niall crawled towards him, kicking his shoes off. Niall held out his arms and Harry sat up, taking the offered hug. Harry inhaled the smell of laundry detergent and boyish body spray that radiated from Niall’s sweater.

“What pushed you to do this? What was so bad?” Niall murmured.

“People expect so much from me. Teachers, my friends, my _parents_ … There is just this assumption that I’m great at everything, and not to worry about me because I’m all right. People depend on me to be the strong one. I’m supposed to be so _normal_ , but I’m _not_ normal.”

“Why aren’t you normal?” Niall asked softly. “You look pretty normal to me. Two eyes, two ears, one nose – “

“I’m gay,” Harry cut him off. “I like men.”

“And?” Niall pushed.

“And I’m ashamed of it.”

Niall said nothing more. He continued to hold Harry tightly for as long as he needed, and when he was finished he remained seated beside him, giving him the company he so desperately wanted as Harry told him all about loving Louis and the day that his entire life had come crashing down around him.

Harry had a long way to go, he knew. He had done something life changing, and it would take a while for him to move away from that and continue to live his life normally. He owed his sister and his mother an explanation, and he knew it might hurt them, but that it was what he had to do.

Harry also knew that eventually all of his friends would find out his secrets, both that he was gay, and that he had tried to take his own life if they hadn’t found that out already. People would probably treat him like a disease for a while, or completely alienate him, and Harry would try to deal with that as the time came.

On a positive note, Harry knew that he had happened upon a true friend in Niall. It was as if fate had worked it’s magic, giving Harry a much needed dose of reality in the form of an out-spoken Irishman. Niall was the honesty that he had needed, and he had shown Harry the value of a life. He was also _really_ cute.

Most of all, Harry knew that he indeed wanted to live; it just took getting hospitalized to figure that out. It would take some medication, and some therapy, but in the end he had been given a second chance to do things right. He needed to learn to be happy and accept who he was before he could even begin to hope for others to accept him as well.


End file.
